


This Is (Not) Swords and Shields

by bigsliggoo



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cassandra Pentaghast's Disgusted Noises, Developing Relationship, Dialogue Heavy, During Canon, F/M, One Shot, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25901302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigsliggoo/pseuds/bigsliggoo
Summary: "What were you doing up?" he asked.Cassandra had to blink a few times to wake herself up. "I couldn't sleep. I can't stop thinking about the Seekers.""Would you believe me if I told you the same thing?"This got a chuckle out of her. "No," she replied.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast, Male Lavellan/Cassandra Pentaghast
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	This Is (Not) Swords and Shields

Cassandra imagined the fire creeping over the bark as the movement of an army. Perhaps it was more like some sort of horde, the way the undisciplined front line seemed to waver and then charge. A few seconds after being engulfed, the chunks of brown became black, and after a few minutes, grey. The analogy she constructed to take her mind off a stressful topic began to remind her of a multitude of other unpleasant things. She wished that she were anywhere but Skyhold, somewhere else where the temptation of liquor was not so strong. Her body, sore and aching for sleep, wanted nothing more than for her to drown her sorrows and save unpleasant thoughts for tomorrow morning, but she couldn’t. If she refused to confront the events of the day, she would be turning her back on her brothers and sisters. Cassandra knew this was bullshit, but she couldn’t get past it. Her unfocused eyes fixed on the center of the flame until they started to burn. A single tear ran down her cheek, and she wiped it away angrily.

Blinking furiously, Cassandra stood up and stretched her legs. Even a few feet away from the fireplace, she could feel the bite of this unusually cold night. It was always chilly living in the Frostback Mountains, but it was rare for her room above the armory to be so cold. She looked at the bed and felt like someone was playing a practical joke on her. Naturally, this made her well up with frustration. She pinned her braid back up on her head and walked out the door. She walked past the training dummies without a glance, moving fast and looking straight ahead at nothing in particular. Before she knew it, her steamy breath was coming fast, and she was almost running. She crossed the courtyard from end to end, over and over until she lost count. Surely, she looked like a madwoman aimlessly charging around Skyhold at night. If some poor stable hand happened to cross her path at this hour, he would piss himself. It was working, though; her head was all but empty. All that mattered was avoiding that slump in the ground and how close to the wall before it was time to about-face. She decided on about six paces away. At the completion of one of her laps, Cassandra felt a strange compulsion to take the stairs near the barn. She bounded up stone steps two at a time and continued her pacing down the ramparts. There was a strong wind at this height, and despite her thick gambeson and underclothes, she felt like she would freeze to death if she stopped walking.

Cassandra nearly yelled when she emerged from the doorframe of a dilapidated tower and realized there was someone ahead of her. She dug her front foot into the ground and her body came to a stop with a series of thumps and clanks. She perceived the sound she made as impossibly loud, and fear seized her heart. Further down the ramparts was a tall figure with hair that looked white in the moonlight. It was the Inquisitor. Had he seen her stomping around the courtyard? For a minute, she didn’t breathe, worried that he would somehow hear her and come ask what she was doing, or even worse, try to sympathize with her. After she could hold her breath no longer, the man remained still as a statue, looking out over the wall at the snowy mountains. As she slowly untensed her muscles, she realized that there was half the length of the wall between them. As fast as she was going, she would have run into him in a less than a minute, but there was no way he could hear her armor through the wind, much less her breathing. Stunned into once again thinking about what she was doing, Cassandra stood there and stared. She could turn around… and do what? Find somewhere else to pace around? Go back to the fireplace? She had found some solace in pacing, but this man had ruined it. Her blood boiled with dumb rage. After standing still for so long, she had to wiggle her legs to keep them from going numb. The cold turned her mind back to the Inquisitor. Why was he standing out here on a night like this?

She leaned against the parapet, crossed her arms, and began to speculate. From what she could see, he was not dressed more heavily than her. Behind her, the courtyard was deserted. Perhaps he was waiting for some young noblewoman to emerge from the tower next to him and they would canoodle in the secrecy of the night. The thought of it made her sick. Droves of women followed the Inquisitor wherever he went, believing falsely that such a vain man could want anything more than to use them. She pitied these women, mostly younger than her and certainly younger than the Inquisitor too, though it was hard to tell his age. Even as a young woman, she would never have fallen for such a sleazy pushover. He had long since ceased bothering Cassandra with his most egregious romantic gestures, but he still attempted to flatter her on occasion with his more subtle tricks. Every day she prayed that he would realize she was not worth the effort. Even with her meager connection to the Nevarran throne, she had had suitors thrown at her since she was old enough to marry, and a few still before that. A few stories had spawned from her many rejections, but she did not find them quite as interesting as Varric did. They were all the same, and the Inquisitor’s particular title wouldn’t have made him any more impressive. Empty flattery seemed almost like an instinct to him, though, so it was unlikely that he would stop.

No, she thought, it was far too cold to meet someone up here just to look at the stars. There were plenty of empty rooms that were warmer. The moon was past its peak in the sky, too, so there was no reason he could not walk through the main hall to his own room… Perhaps he did not want problems in the morning? No! Why wait this long? Perhaps she was underestimating him. He was here to meet with someone else, to make some sort of duplicitous deal. She had always known since he was exalted that the Inquisition would inevitably be sold one day to the highest bidder. But who was the highest bidder? Cassandra began to squint and lean in unconsciously, but he was too far away to make out much. Suddenly, the white spot she was fixated on moved—back into the door he was standing near. Her heart raced, struck with the weight of a decision. She already had some motivation to investigate the mysterious nighttime activities of the face of the Inquisition, a man whom she didn’t trust in the slightest, but what really drove her to run after him was the thought of returning to her fireplace where she could only ponder sadly what she had missed. As she got closer to the door, Cassandra remembered that she was following someone, and she worst thing she could do would be to get caught. Leliana would laugh if she knew. She crept up to the door and put her face up to it. This wasn’t Cullen’s tower; she was absolutely certain… Or was it? She shook her head to try to free it of foolish thoughts. With perhaps a bit too much resolve, she threw open the door to a find a dusty, abandoned study. From here, there were two options: the door opposite her, and down the stairs. Wasting no time, she slid down the stairs and paused at the bottom. All was still silent, save for the sound of the wind. This time more quietly, she opened the door to the courtyard and silently cheered when she saw the white hair. He was somewhat closer, but his back was still to her. She could see now that he wore only his formal attire from the preceding dinner and a modest fur mantle. He climbed the stairs to the main hall with his hands held behind him, oddly like an old man. Maybe he was hungover already and couldn’t sleep. Cassandra continued her stalking up the stairs.

Ariel began to walk faster. Someone was following him. In the span of a couple minutes, he had heard two doors open and close behind him. The wind was loud tonight, but not that loud. He shook his head to clear his mind of other thoughts and focused on walking normally. Every night he came out here he did the exact same thing, so it might be refreshing to humor this person following him for one night. It was clearly not an assassin or anyone to be concerned about, or else they might not have slammed the tower doors behind them, but at the same time, they were too shy to simply walk up and talk to him. He genuinely could not figure out who it might be. As he passed into the great hall, Ariel wiggled his fingers and shuffled around the fuzzy pelt on his shoulders, trying to ease his body into the warmer space. Now he was left with the question of where to lead this person. Was he trying to confront them? He turned into a stairwell and he could just barely hear his follower’s footsteps beginning to echo as they entered the hall. Normally, this kind of strange situation wouldn’t have troubled him in the slightest, but as he tried to formulate a plan, he found his thoughts were clouded with sleepiness. With each step he climbed, he felt fear encroaching upon him. When was the last time he was unable to talk himself out of something? Even the idea of trying to dig up a memory he had so forcibly repressed gave him the chills.

Just as Ariel reached the top of the stairs and his eyes were starting to glaze over, he was startled by a face appearing just in front of his own.

“Inquisitor?” asked Dorian, appearing quite startled himself.

“Ah, Dorian!” Ariel said. “What are you doing in the library at this hour? It’s getting a bit late for reading, isn’t it?”

Dorian’s lantern stuttered and his brow furrowed as he snapped at the flame with his fingers. When it seemed to have righted itself, he said, “I would have said that to myself too about a week ago, but these past few nights I have found myself unable to stop thinking about something. I didn’t want to bother anyone with it, though. Academic drivel, you know?”

“Oh? What about?” 

“I have this… book. It’s just a historical tome, from Tevinter obviously, but there’s something not right about it, about the author—I appreciate the concern, Inquisitor, but I really fear that I will bore you to death if I try to explain it. I myself am frankly tiring of it.”

“Dorian, I insist. But if you need to get some sleep, I won’t keep you.”

Dorian rubbed his face, thinking. After a bit of internal debate, he turned away from the staircase and motioned for Ariel to follow. “Come. Let me show you.”

Cassandra stopped at the bottom of the stairs when she heard speech. The Inquisitor was talking to someone. It was… Dorian? He was meeting Dorian? How dull. But then again… maybe the situation was not so dull. Perhaps the Inquisitor really was gay! That was why he kept so many female suitors around but never courted any one of them in particular… She normally detested the Inquisitor's social ventures, but the scent of a secret romance was irresistible. And it would have to be kept secret, with the Inquisitor so concerned with his appearance and Dorian being Tevinter. It was all starting to make sense! Feeling reinvigorated, she peeked her head around the corner to hear better. She could see the light of a lantern moving away from the doorway. With another person around, the chances of her being discovered were even greater. At the same time, the Inquisitor and Dorian had probably planned this night so that they would not be found, so it was very unlikely that another person would happen upon her… She had already followed him this far. As soon as she confirmed her suspicions, she would leave and sleep well with some fresh gossip to take her mind off of the Seekers. It was unlikely that she would ever tell anyone what she witnessed, but immature though it may have been, it would feel good knowing that she had any kind of power over that slimy bastard. Placing some of her weight on her fingertips, Cassandra gently crept up the stairs. She kept her body very low and her eyes on the lantern light, which was now still. If it ever moved, she would be ready to dash away in an instant.

Their voices echoed in the otherwise silent chamber, but only after moving up a few stairs could she discern what they were saying.

“Look at this one. Look at the writing in this one. Do you see this phrasing? ‘Oleaginous’? Quirinus would never have used such an obscure and terrible word. And this book here—by Tartan, it says right here: oleaginous. Look.” Dorian was starting to raise his voice.

“And that means what, again?” said the Inquisitor.

“It means oily! Oily! Covered in oil!” Dorian was almost yelling. “I knew Quirinus—look, I have his whole set of _Historia_ right here if you don’t believe me. But! That’s not the end of it. I can prove it wasn’t written by Tartan either. At the back of the book, there is a reference to something that it was impossible for Tartan to know about, but I think I know who it was, or at least who would have told him about it. That’s where this starts getting complicated. That volume is just the start of this whole trail of evidence. Look here where it says…”

It was the most boring conversation Cassandra had ever heard. She cursed. Silently, she cursed herself again and again. What an idiot she had been! This whole idea of following the Inquisitor was a mistake. He had only been outside to get a break from this bullshit, and she couldn’t blame him. She had been overly paranoid and risked humiliation to follow some empty suspicion, and for what? Well, not exactly empty, she supposed. She clenched her fists and began to step away when she heard something more interesting.

“I’m terribly sorry. I think I’ve been at this too long and it’s driving me mad,” said Dorian. “Surely there’s some reason you came here? I hope you’re not losing sleep over an issue as petty as mine.”

The Inquisitor was not here to meet with Dorian about some academic bullshit! Then he was still on his way to his personal business… Cassandra resumed her close listening.

“I don’t find your issue petty at all. He was your uncle, after all,” replied the Inquisitor. “You know the Inquisition can research things for you, right? We can contact scholars for you. Josephine will reach out to…”

“Felicita. Felicita Octavian.”

“Felicita! Right. Dorian, you know you don’t need to be afraid to ask for things. You’re my friend and you’re part of this organization, too, so never worry about resources. I’ll let Josephine know, if you want. It could take her a single letter to put your mind at ease. She writes a million a day.”

The silver-tongued bastard!

“Yes, maybe then I will be able to think about more important things... Thank you, really. I get it in my head that you southerners will think I’m just a crazy Vint for losing sleep over this pretentious magister nonsense. I should try harder to assimilate, worry instead about which hideous fur to drape over the couch to make it look most like a wild animal.”

The Inquisitor laughed. “You’re generalizing, Dorian. That’s just Fereldans.”

“Is that so? And what is this you’re wearing right now?” Dorian said. “Did a Fereldan put this on you?”

“Actually, yes. Cullen gave this one to me. I thought it was very kind of him.”

“Such a shame,” Dorian said. “Here I was beginning to think Cullen could do well in Tevinter, for a Fereldan. The feathers are just the right kind of gaudy.”

“I don’t think Cullen would do well in Tevinter for a number of reasons.”

“That’s true. Some people we’ve met this week would do a little too well in Tevinter, if you know what I mean. I shudder to imagine.”

There was a pause in the conversation. Cassandra’s mind began to wander again. She thought about the fur-lined cloak her aunt had given her and frowned.

Before long, Dorian spoke again. “Now, Inquisitor, you may think you’ve distracted me, but I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t ask what you yourself are doing on this fine night? The way you expertly deflected my question earlier just screams ‘debauchery.’”

Cassandra’s eyes widened.

The Inquisitor sighed. “Hmm, seems I’ve been busted. Well Dorian, if you really must know,” he said, “can you keep a secret?”

“Impossible,” said Dorian. “Could it be? Our most holy Lord Inquisitor is conducting some sort of underground affair? Secret goings-on? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s technically Inquisition business, so I really do mean it.”

More seriously, Dorian replied, “My lips are sealed.”

“Well,” the Inquisitor began, “I am actually on my way to meet someone.”

Cassandra felt like jumping in the air, but she managed to settle for clenching her fist with renewed vigor. She was right all along!

Dorian clicked his tongue. “My, my! A man with your looks could never be as pious as he claims. Now I feel like a fool for holding you up here.”

“Don't worry Dorian, it's not nearly as interesting as you think. But I think I will get going if you don’t mind.”

“You should have said something. I won’t ask and I certainly won’t tell anyone, but you must know that I am going to die of curiosity.”

The lantern started to move.

The Inquisitor chuckled. “It’s not worth thinking too hard about. I don’t think it’ll lead anywhere.”

“That’s what they always say,” Dorian retorted, his voice growing louder.

He was moving towards her staircase. Cassandra, having grown complacent in her carriage, nearly fell down the stairs, but a burst of adrenaline propelled her at the last second to shuffle away swiftly and silently as an animal. She crouched in the black shadow of a chair, heart beating furiously. As the lantern’s light flooded out into the great hall, she cupped her hand over her mouth. Dorian whistled an unfamiliar tune as he took his time crossing the hall. After what felt like an eternity, he disappeared into another corridor and the hall was dark again. She released her breath and blinked in amazement at her own powers of stealth. Painful scenes of Dorian discovering her hiding behind a chair in the great hall in the middle of the night tried to creep into her mind, but she just as quickly shoved them away.

The warm glow that illuminated the stairwell that Dorian had just exited faded and was replaced by the faintest white light. As soon as Cassandra reasoned what it was, she scurried back to the stairwell.

Ariel held the gentle white flame close to him, careful not to make it too bright, lest he run into anyone else. There was only one person he wanted to meet tonight, and they would have an easy enough time following his small light. If they were still following him, that was. The fear he had felt earlier upon realizing that he was not alone in the night had subsided, replaced by his easy daytime confidence. Dorian had caught him by surprise, but he handled the conversation with finesse. The man was perceptive, but not anything that Ariel couldn’t handle with a quick half-truth. 

_Not that he had anything to hide…_ he reassured himself. The magical light was barely enough for him to watch the uneven stones beneath his feet, so he had to reach out his other hand to find a wall. He had not entirely lied to Dorian. Ariel very much intended to meet with someone, provided they had not been bored away by their discussion. That last bit, he figured, would be enough to solidify their interest in his nightly activities as well as satisfy Dorian for now. He would lead them to the balcony above the great hall and go silent, prompting them to peek their head out of the staircase. There, they would have their romantic little midnight meeting. As brilliant as his plan was, he realized he had no idea which side of the library he was on, much less how to get to the balcony. Cursing his poor sense of direction, he brightened the flame in his hand so that the light filled the room. He wondered if his follower could read his thoughts.

The second corridor he tried was the passage to the balcony. How embarrassing. But not as embarrassing as being caught following someone at night. The gentle sound of footsteps confirmed their presence, so when Ariel diffused his flame and slipped into the shadows in the back corner of the balcony, he smiled ever so slightly. A minute of complete silence passed before the person in the stairwell moved again. He could tell it was a figure of average height and build, but the darkness obscured any other features.

Ariel leaned forward so his face would be visible in the moonlight. “Who’s there?”

The figure halted.

They would have nowhere to run. Thinking quickly, Ariel quickly snapped his fingers and a thin wall of flame appeared in the entrance to the stairs. The flames cast a dancing light on the back side of his follower. It was difficult to make out, but as the figure turned around to look at the flames, her sharp features and piercing glare were unmistakable.

“Inquisitor,” barked Cassandra, sliding into a defensive stance.

She seemed caught off-guard, but not as much as Ariel. He lost control of the magical flames and they immediately fizzled away. He took a step back, but his foot caught on the carpet and he stumbled back about a pace into the shadows. Luckily for him, the darkness obscured his face which was becoming red as a beet.

Cassandra, having stepped into the moonlight, turned around to see the flames were gone. “What was that? What are you trying to do?” She held her hand out in front of her and stood completely still, prepared to flee at any moment.

He had scared her. He opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words. The way her eyes darted around the room and her hand felt for a sword that wasn't there made it clear that she felt genuinely threatened. Ariel felt like he was sinking into a hole. Perhaps he really had fallen asleep this time, and this was just a nightmare. He reached out a hand. “I'm sorry, I... didn't realize.” he spoke weakly.

It was poor reassurance for a woman that already seemed to despise him. “What are you doing up here? You are going to trap me here with fire? What are you trying to do?” Her head darted back and forth between Ariel and the exit.

"I didn't realize it was you. I apologize," he replied, trying to look her in the eye. What explanation could he possibly give her? Surely she was dreaming up all kinds of malicious machinations, but the truth felt even more shameful.

"You didn't--who did you think it was? Who are you meeting at this hour?" Her posture became less fearful and she began to approach Ariel, perhaps remembering some of her Seeker talents. "Tell me what's going on," she commanded.

His head spun, digging into itself for something to say, _anything_ to say. What was the truth anyway? What was the point of all this? He could not help but recall another time when he had had nothing to say for himself. Maker, how many years had it been since he felt this way? It was always a sobering experience working with Cassandra, knowing her distaste for him, but it had been many years since he had gotten himself into this kind of hot water. "I knew someone was following me, and I wanted to see who it was. I didn’t realize it was you. I apologize." That wasn't so bad.

"I don't believe you," she said. "What are you hiding?"

Was he hiding anything? It was unusual for Cassandra to speak to him so accusatively. Ariel was used to receiving at most a glare when he did something to earn her disapproval, so to hear her skepticism voiced chilled him to the bone. "That's really it. I thought you might be some kind of spy, or an assassin." This was a lie. Cassandra would make the most abysmal spy or assassin, the way she slammed doors behind her. His mind began to wander to why she was following him in the first place, but it quickly focused again on the more urgent matter at hand.

She scowled. "I don't believe you," she repeated. "You just told Dorian you were meeting someone."

He had forgotten about his conversation with Dorian. And he thought he was making progress worming his way out. "It was my plan to meet the person who was following me, so just you. Nothing more." What a fool he was! Why didn't he just lie and say that he was meeting someone else? It might have worsened her feelings about him, but it wouldn't have been quite as embarrassing. He felt naked with his ego fully exposed in the moonlight.

"You're lying." For some time, Cassandra had stood half the balcony length away from him, but she started moving closer again. "Why would you say that if you didn't have something to hide? What were you doing on the wall at this hour?" Her voice was growing louder. Ariel prayed no one else was awake. "You're doing something you shouldn't be. Why are you so nervous?" She stopped close enough to him that he had to resist backing away.

He knew the answer to her last question. That was the easiest question she had asked all night, but answering it truthfully was out of the question. The other questions, however, were feasible. "I like to go for walks when I can't sleep," he said. "It helps clear my head."

Cassandra's eyes widened. "You must think me an idiot. Do I not deserve a better lie than that?" Ariel could see now that her eyes were bloodshot. 

"I am telling you the truth, Cassandra. Why do you think I'm lying? I'm sorry about the fire in the doorway but I didn't realize it was you. That's the truth." He already knew that she disliked him, and he understood that she was upset about his blundered confrontation, but he was beginning to think there was something deeper.

"Why do I think you're lying? The Dalish mage who calls himself Andraste's chosen? The most kind and virtuous leader and darling of the Orlesian court, and a trained ballroom dancer? And a complete nobody, who happened to survive the Conclave possessing the Anchor. The Conclave where Divine Justinia and dozens of others lost their lives. Give me a break."

Ariel was stunned. "I'm not sure what you're implying," he said.

"I think you know exactly what I mean. I don’t know. I have no idea what you did. I don’t know what you’re doing now or who you work for. It doesn't matter though. It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me. I won’t give you the satisfaction of asking. Sorry I interrupted your... your _walking."_

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand and turned for the stairs. If he tried any more magic bullshit, she wouldn't even care. That last part came out a bit harsher than she intended, but it didn't matter. Her instinct was to try to rationalize the sudden outburst, but it was pointless, she figured. It was the Inquisitor's fault for souring her already sour mood, and there was always going to be a day when she told him to his face how she felt. Better to start now than wait for another moment when he was miraculously alone.

"Have I done something to offend you?"

She waved her hand to indicate that she heard him but didn't turn around.

"Cassandra. If you have a problem with me, I need to know. For the sake of the Inquisition." 

She stopped. This was his Inquisitor voice, no hesitation to be heard. 

"I apologize if I ever made you uncomfortable," he said. "I may have conducted myself in a way that was inappropriate, given my position."

So typical of him to make reference to his _position_. Still, it would be childish to ignore him when he was speaking so formally to her. "I do not think 'uncomfortable' is the right word." She scowled, thinking of the rose she had once found on her desk. "But yes, it is inappropriate, and if you would stop, I think it might improve our working relationship."

She thought she saw his eyes narrow. The fringe of his hair and fur mantle glowed in the moonlight, but his expression was obscured by shadow. He was resting against the wall, with his arms crossed and one foot propped up on the bricks, an oddly lax posture for him to take. "I have stopped. In the spring, I realized you did not return my feelings, so I stopped. Perhaps I should have apologized then, but I didn't realize it would cause a lasting problem between us."

"But you haven't stopped," replied Cassandra, starting to get irritated again. "Asking me to go to all these events so you can mention my name in front of everyone. Trying to flatter me with all these soldiers you give to me and giving me all these assignments that _anyone_ else would be better suited for. And I hope you don't think learning the Chant of Light will change my mind. It’s pathetic."

He chuckled. "Now don't take this the wrong way, but the Chant of Light is way too long to learn just for the sake of impressing someone. But I do give you a lot responsibility in the Inquisition," he said, "and I do that because I trust you to represent us."

"You're doing it now! Your flattery may work on other women, but it does not work on me."

"I know that, and I'm not trying to flatter you," said the Inquisitor. "You are the backbone of this organization. I truly believe that."

His words twisted her face into a frown. She contemplated walking away again, but she felt obligated to hear him out. Even if all he had to say was bullshit.

"What were you doing up?" he asked.

Cassandra had to blink a few times to wake herself up. "I couldn't sleep. I can't stop thinking about the Seekers."

"Would you believe me if I told you the same thing?"

This got a chuckle out of her. "No," she replied.

He nodded silently to himself. "I guess that would be misleading of me to say. You can't lose sleep over something if you never sleep anyway."

"I'm sure you have plenty of other exciting nighttime activities to keep you up."

"Not unless you count reading ledgers. Or walking on the wall," he said.

Cassandra scoffed. Her weariness was making her find this a little more amusing than she should. "You expect me to believe our Herald of Andraste doesn't have any nightly business She wouldn't approve of?"

"Hmm. Not for a very long time. But I committed enough sins as a young man to last me a few lifetimes."

She realized that she had never thought about the Inquisitor's background before. Perhaps he wanted it that way. He was definitely Dalish; that much was well-known. But... what did he do before the Conclave? What could he have done? Perhaps she had seen the tattoos on his face and assumed that he just did... Dalish things. Admittedly, Cassandra did not know much about the Dalish, but there were certain things about the Inquisitor that set him apart from others she had met. If it was true that he had some unsavory history, it was out of character for him to admit it. After a minute, she managed to rein in her imagination.

"Ah," she said, "I know what you're doing. This is what you did to Dorian. You think I am so interested in fictions about your personal life that you can distract me from what you're really doing." 

"You still think I'm doing something suspicious?"

"You have yet to give me any reason to change my mind."

He ran his fingers along his scalp exasperatedly. "I'm not sure what I can say, Cassandra. You can stay up every night, and every night, you will see me out there. You can ask Cole about it, and he will tell you that I do absolutely nothing, and that I want nothing more than to fall asleep so I can get to the next day." His hands started moving and he started standing up a bit straighter. "You think I'm a liar? You're right. I am, because tomorrow I'm going to lie and tell everyone that I am this incredible person, the Inquisitor they love and trust, and they will believe me. It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me. They believe me. I can believe in it too, that’s how good at it I am. That's how we operate.” He rose from the wall.

Cassandra was speechless.

The Inquisitor moved to stand in the doorway to the balcony, letting the cold air blow his hair around gently. "It’s what we all do in our own ways. If you don't respect the degree to which I do it, that’s okay. But I'm not lying to you about what I was doing," he said, "or about trying to flatter you. Does that clarify things enough for you?"

His back was turned to her, perhaps to dismiss her, but Cassandra was frozen in place. There was a burning feeling deep in her chest that she eventually recognized as guilt. He had a certain authority about him that he was able to conjure as easily as that light in his hand, and any other time it would have been ineffectual on her, but for some reason, she could not move. She stared at the silhouette in the doorway as it drifted out to the balcony as lightly as a ghost. Wispy curtains swirled in his wake and as one drifted towards her, she remembered how cold it was outside. It seemed like an eternity passed of her staring open-mouthed out at the night, at the rustling fur on his shoulders and his still white hands resting on the bannister. She remembered why she was mad at him, but the fire in her had died down somewhat.

Suddenly, he turned to look at her. She could not see his eyes on her for the shadow over his face, but she could feel them. The hint of self-consciousness that triggered within her fueled her anger just enough to resist retreating. She crossed her arms, furrowed her brow, and stared back at him. After a moment’s consideration, she pushed through the billowing curtains to stand parallel to the Inquisitor on the balcony. “If you’re not lying about what you’re doing tonight, then what is it that you lie about? Who are you?” she asked.

She could see some kind of realization slowly dawn on him as he continued to stare back at her. “What do I lie about? Well, I lie about liking food from Orlais. I lied to Dorian when I said I was interested in his books. I lie when he… talks about certain aspects of Tevinter.”

“You know what I’m asking you. I can’t make myself any clearer.”

“Even if they repulse me,” he continued, ignoring her. “Even if telling him that I agree with him feels like I’m turning my back on the deepest of my morals, everything that I stand for. Or, everything I know I should stand for, rather.”

Cassandra frowned. “You’re referring to slavery.”

Ariel nodded.

“So let me try this again,” she said. “Who are you?”

The corners of his mouth perked up sleepily. He could hear some part of his mind yelling at him not to indulge in this any further, but he had exhausted his options. “Come now, Cassandra, I wouldn’t want to bore you with any ‘fictions about my personal life.’”

She responded with the closest thing to a smile he had ever received from her. “Try me.”

He could still hear that voice of reason in his head, but he chose to lean back and relax as though he were in a dream. “I do come from Clan Lavellan, and it was where I grew up, but they don’t really think of me as… one of them. In all honesty, I think they were happy to send me to the Conclave just to get me away from them. It worked, in a way.”

“And why don’t they like you? Isn’t a clan like your family?”

Though he would not dare move closer to her, Ariel found great enjoyment in simply resting his eyes on Cassandra, whatever the context. He could not remember the last time they had spoken without being rushed along to attend to ever more important matters. “They are my family. And because they are my family, I do what I can to support them, even if they don’t appreciate what I do for them. The Dalish tend to be very set in their ways. Appreciation isn’t what matters, though. You understand.”

“I’m considering that if you did believe in the Maker,” she posited, “they might dislike you for that. Although that would not explain anything.”

Ariel smiled. “And now I’m the Herald of Andraste too.”

“Don’t tell me that’s the only thing. When I ask you this next question, do not dance around the answer again,” she commanded. “What made you turn to the Maker?”

His smile dropped. Many things to say rose to his mind but he realized one by one that they were nothing but half-truths. “There was a time when I was a younger man…” He stared at her for almost certainly too long, choosing his next words very carefully. “When I thought death would be too kind of a fate for me.” He could tell by the seizing of his heart that he had chosen correctly. “I ruined more lives than I could count. I sold them to lives worse than death. The blood on my hands was immeasurable. I was an apostate and a Dalish elf living in a human city, with no money or food. I had spent the last six years prostituting myself. A Chantry mother took me in, knowing all that, and when I told her I wished I were Tranquil, she locked me in a closet and didn’t let me out until I agreed not to turn myself in. I know not every Chantry mother would do something like that, but that’s exactly why I was convinced. I don’t even think she understood everything I told her, but the point is that my life was saved. For a reason. I was chosen for this, for better or for worse.” He found his gaze had wandered past Cassandra to the distant snows beyond. The words that came out of his mouth were spoken to himself as much as her, and he struggled to process the sound of them.

“What… did you do?”

Ariel’s hands were still clenched with conviction from his last statement, but he felt the faintest shadow of a feeling he thought he had forgotten until tonight. Tonight would not be the same as all those years ago. Whatever her reaction, he had no reason to flee. Not anymore. “I ran away from my clan right after I got my vallaslin and ended up living in the Free Marches. There were a lot of elves where I lived who were desperate, easy to trick, and there happens to be a constant demand for… labor. In Tevinter. They trusted me because I was an elf, then I put them to sleep and sent them away for a profit. I did it for years.”

Cassandra scoffed. She squinted and stared back at him, probing his face for some hint of a joke. After coming up empty, she examined his posture for fear, for signs of cowardice, shame, despondency at having to reveal a stain on his pristine reputation. She found nothing. This would be far more than a stain on his reputation… She had to kick herself to react properly to what she was hearing.

“I did it because the Tevinters promised me power. They could give it to me using the blood I brought them every month. Blood from those elves.” Blue sparks from his fingertips lit up his face. “That was what I wanted more than anything in the world, was to feel powerful. As a young man, I was capable of much, much less than I am now, regarding the use of magic, and for some reason, I blamed my clan’s starvation on that. Heh. I felt inadequate, so I fled and left them to their fate. But you know what really makes it hard to sleep?” The sparks disappeared. “I’ll never know if all that blood magic was just a display. I came out of it more powerful than I was, but I wonder sometimes if all that suffering was just to make me feel like I had more power. Is it even possible to use blood magic for something like that? I don’t know. I don’t even know if I would prefer it one way over the other.”

“Either their blood was spilled for nothing, or you were the benefactor of their suffering,” she said.

“Exactly. It’s hard for me to even describe to you now what magical power really is.” He sighed. “But I only pray that I can use it for the betterment of Thedas. That’s all I can do now.”

It was odd to watch him speak such incisive words yet react to them as though they were somebody else’s. Cassandra certainly felt as though she were speaking to a stranger. This was a narrative rehearsed many times but perhaps never spoken to another soul before. “That is very ambitious, to think that you can atone for sins like that.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that I can atone. I have no illusions about redeeming myself, but I will do what good I can with the rest of my life. I daresay I’m pretty well-equipped to do good, for one man.” The smile crept back onto his face and he waved his arms smugly at the massive keep surrounding them.

This new stranger and the Ariel Lavellan she knew started blurring together and it made her uncomfortable. She thought of Cullen and his addiction, of Blackwall—Rainier. Thom Rainier. The Inquisitor was always incredibly accommodating, and he had been far more accommodating of Rainier than he deserved. She had called him spineless, a pushover… No. He was still spineless, she assured herself. The prospect of understanding this man’s motivations was making her head spin. “You are an idealist. The Inquisition exists because it is necessary, not so we can live out our dreams of heroism.”

Ariel leaned in closer to her, smiling. “Cassandra, Cassandra. I am an idealist only as much as you are. And I’m not just saying that because of the books you read.”

She felt hot in the face.

“After everything that happened with the Seekers, you still want to try to help mages. We have one clue towards doing the impossible, and yet you’re willing to try. All we do is fight the impossible, the inevitable, yet you have plans for how we’re going to come out of all of this stronger, no matter how much we’ve lost. I’ve seen how you look at that Divine Writ, how you talk about Justinia. Tell me you aren’t an idealist in the slightest.”

“Do not compare yourself to me. I have never sold my own people into slavery,” she snapped. Immediately, she regretted her words. “I—Forgive me. I don’t know what came over me.” The strange thing was that she did not, in fact, hate the Inquisitor for what he had told her. All this time fantasizing about some dirt to dangle over his head, and now that she knew something truly damning about him, something she should truly hate him for, all she could feel was… shame?

“I shouldn’t have mentioned Justinia,” he said.

“No, it’s not that,” she replied. What he had said about her, he had said to her a dozen times before, but only now did they start to feel like compliments. “I… see why you do not talk about your past often. How many people know about what you told me?”

He laughed nervously, pulling his fur tightly over his shoulders. “Well, you would be the third. I can’t say I’d ever planned on telling anyone after the second, but you caught me at an odd hour.”

That was impossible. At this point, she doubted he was lying on purpose, but it was impossible, nonetheless. “I am the third person to know about this? Who are the other two? Surely you did not plan to hide this for the rest of your life. You’re going to be asked about it. What happens when spies go looking for your past?”

“They will find nothing. I’ve covered my tracks, but more importantly, this is part of why I don’t make enemies. Nobody needs anything to use against me, so no one will find anything.”

“That’s not true and you know it!”

“All of this was over a decade ago. But I’m not naïve, simply trying to make peace with having done what I can. Believe me when I say I’ve covered my tracks as well as I possibly can.” His last few words were painfully drawn out and enunciated. In that euphemism, Cassandra found the remorse she had been looking for earlier. That wound was still fresh.

Against all of her better judgment, she decided to rein in her accusative thoughts for now. “Who else knows? Leliana?” she asked.

“A Chantry mother in the Vimmark Mountains and…”

“And?”

“Someone who I trust not to say anything.” He picked up quite quickly that his answer was not satisfactory and smiled softly. “Cassandra, you promise I’m not boring you? You don’t still think I’m spinning tales to charm you?”

She laughed sharply. “I only wish you were. You’re doing such an excellent job. Who is the third one? Why should we trust them?”

He bowed his head and continued, “She is someone I know very well, even if we haven’t spoken in some time. I know her… values. I trust that even if years pass, some things will remain the same. We had a child together, but I had to leave before her first birthday, and I think her mother and I would both agree that it’s best if she didn’t learn who her father was. I don’t know where they are now, but it’s possible they could learn of me. Now that I’m the Inquisitor, if stories were pieced together, it could be even worse for her.”

Cassandra rubbed her temples. This took a turn she wasn’t expecting. “You don’t think this woman would be even more inclined to use this against you? You sound like you weren’t on good terms.”

“The last time I saw her, she called Templars on me and told me never to contact her or our infant daughter ever again. It was the worst day of my life. But she’s a good mother. I know that beyond a shadow of a doubt.” The Inquisitor spoke all of this very matter-of-factly.

“Why are you telling me this?” For some reason, she felt the need to hide, as though with every question he answered, he was learning more about her instead. There was no expectation for her to share anything of her own life and yet she felt the scrutiny had flipped around on her.

“Because you demanded it.”

“And you could have lied to me. Not only have you sold your own people, now you admit to leaving a child fatherless for your mistakes. I should be throwing you off this balcony right now for everything you are telling me!”

He said nothing for a moment, smiling emptily at the floor. “Why don’t you?” he said. His words enraged her once again, but when she finally raised her eyes, she saw not the glib egotist she knew but that sad, pensive stranger. It wasn’t sarcasm. “You’ve made it quite clear you don’t like me, so it was probably a poor decision not to lie to you, sure. But my daughter has a father, it’s just not me. There’s nothing more I can do for her or for those elves. Especially not for her. We both know that’s true, but that’s not really good enough for either of us, is it? You always impressed me because you were able to see through me, so I that’s why I won’t patronize you by telling you lies.”

Cassandra swallowed hard. This wasn’t right. Her accusations had grown completely hollow and she wished more than anything to redo this entire night. What would she have done differently? The only reason he was telling her all this was because she had been treating him like a traitor for months, far longer than she could imagine making reparations for. She felt lost without her script to adhere to. She couldn’t keep insulting him like a child for the sake of her own pride.

“I suppose I was thinking about the last time someone I cared about learned these things about me,” he said, “and I regretted that it wasn’t from my own mouth. I guess I thought… Heh. It doesn’t make a difference.”

“It does make a difference,” she blurted. “It does make a difference for you to tell me.” She fumbled for words to elaborate on what she had said and came up empty. She could tell he was waiting for her to say something else, but even she wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. He really hadn’t told anyone his life story in over a decade? Someone he cared about…? When she felt her palms clamming up, she decided it was time to change the subject entirely. A minute passed before she thought of something to say. “So why is it you know how to dance, then?” She cursed herself for not thinking of something better.

“Well, nothing too sinister. For some years after I left my clan, I worked in a brothel, and when you—”

“Let me—let me stop you there,” she interrupted. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold but Ariel seemed to dream that they grew rosier. “You were… Yes. I do believe you mentioned that. That you had been… That truly must have been a long time ago.”

“Wow. I’m hurt you would say that,” he teased, miming a pain in his chest. There was a pain in his chest, but her sudden awkwardness had made it easier to ignore.

“That’s not what I—I didn’t mean that. It’s not that you… wouldn’t…” She moved her arms half to gesture to his body and half to cover her face abashedly.

He found himself genuinely laughing, and he was sure he saw her face grow redder. That wasn’t a dream.

“In any case, I am sorry for accusing you of doing something you shouldn’t be,” she said hurriedly but with great effort, turning away from the railing. “And for… other things. But I won’t keep you any longer. Goodnight, Inquisitor.”

“Forgiven,” he said without fully understanding what she meant. “You can always talk to me about anything you need,” Ariel said to her back. She hesitated for just a moment to look back at him. He wondered if there was anything he was supposed to say, but all he felt like he had been talking for hours. When she was ready to share her side, she would. “Have a good night, Cassandra.”

She opened her mouth as if to say something before shaking her head and marching away. Ariel remained on the balcony, listening to her walk down the hall and watching her cross the yard, and then staring at the moon long after she was gone. He could feel that sleepy haze blocking his thoughts from occurring as fast as they should, but oddly enough, he felt like he didn’t need to be thinking about anything. There were many things he had yet kept to himself and many things he had spoken incorrectly, but there was no compulsion to catalogue them or rehearse any lines to append what he had said. The mental silence was blissful, even if it was motivated in part by a feeling that his grave had already been dug.

There were many thoughts to be had about Cassandra as well, but Ariel suppressed most of them for fear of overindulgence. For all of his wisdom with people, it was still too soon to say what kind of terms they would be on in the morning. Even thinking about the morning, he could not help but picture her blushing and stuttering in the daylight where he would know that it wasn’t all an illusion. She would hate him for imagining it. He hated himself for imagining it, but just a little.

The threads of a theory to explain her hatred-turned-awkwardness were there, but there was the potential for them to add up to something less pleasant than his cursory examination of the situation. Although it was at least as likely she would scorn him even more than before, he could not help but indulge in these feelings he had not experienced for many years. Try as he might, he couldn’t leave every vain thought to his dreams. Even if she were to smack him in the face once she was thinking with clarity, hell, that would be fine with him. At the very least, she would be smacking him for everything he was and not for the character he played. The slap he imagined was so sweet he could feel its sting. Despite all the empathy he had for her, he found it difficult to have anything but rude thoughts at the moment. Chastising himself silently, he took one last glance at the armory where Cassandra slept and saw that the windows were dark. Whatever lay in store for their relationship tomorrow, he prayed she would find some sleep. He wondered if she would want the same for him and sighed, turning his back on the icy night and heading back to his quarters.


End file.
